


Bonding Madness

by ASignificantWhisper



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 01:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5228435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASignificantWhisper/pseuds/ASignificantWhisper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey, Ian, Mandy, Svetlana and Iggy watch American Horror Story : Hotel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonding Madness

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this story saved back for a while, only posting it on Tumblr. So, just like the one I released last night, I'm gonna go ahead and post this one too. Mentions a little violence from American Horror Story. I'll stop rambling now...

“I mean that I’m not fuckin’ interested in that shit. I already have trouble tryna sleep with–”

“Oh my god, are you kidding me right now, shithead?” Came a softer female interruption, that belonged to none other than Mandy Milkovich, the younger sister of the latter older man, who was currently glaring holes through her at the cut off. 

“You sleep just fine all curled around him and you know it. I mean if anything you should have some consideration for the other inhabitants that thrive this residence up.“

"In what? What the fuck does that mean?” A confused voice chimes in, as he stands to the right of the conversation now, posture sloppy, bowl of ramen noodles overflowing, and a beer wedged in between his bicep and side.

“People? It means fuckin’ people that live here, Iggy. Jesus Christ with you two. Can I speak now? Or do we need another minute?” Barks out Mickey Milkovich, the middle sibling between Mandy and their brother Iggy Milkovich.

Mandy simply just raises her soda in a half-assed attempt at respecting her brother’s wishes, causing Mickey to roll his eyes so hard that the muscles in them protested with a slight sting. Iggy, however, just continued to look confused as fuck, only furthering the annoyance that Mickey felt. But he bounces back quickly, choosing to ignore it and get back to the original start of the conversation.

“I’m not interested in some over the top level gore with rape, violence, drugs, weird shit. I live in this shithole neighborhood. Isn’t good TV supposed to be an escape an all that?” Mickey questions, lighting up his last cigarette in the pack he shared with Ian.

Speaking of Ian, his brows lift as he looks to his sister to continue with a rebuttal.

“Also, no one even fuckin’ lives here but me and him. And this shithead beside us, but Iggy’s always stoned out of his mind or watchin’ cheap ass porn anyways. My house. My rules. If I wanna make some noise with my boyfriend then I’ll fuckin’ do it, okay?”

Mandy’s features are soft with amusement, her hand pinching the fabric of the middle of her shirt, right over her heart. But Mickey can see that she gets it, that she’s happy, especially with his word usage. Shit, he himself had to get used to publicly calling Ian his boyfriend again after their breakup last fall.

Mandy bites her lip with a grin, tone light and airy when she speaks again, tapping her fingers against her chest, right where her heart was. “You just hit me right here, Mick. Right here.”

“Shut up, man. Damn.” Mickey is shaking his head after it tilts up, his lips parting to let out a long drag of the sweet Marlboro smoke. But he wasn’t hiding the grin that edged into the corner of his mouth.

Iggy plops down in the newly purchased leather love seat, opposite of the main couch, the lazy boy recliner, and the additional love seat, rudely slurping on the noodles that he could barely keep on his fork. Mandy goes back to the game on her phone, only disagreeing with Mickey about how he needs to just give the show a chance.

The front door opens and carries a few stray leaves in with it, followed by his Russian bride, and the mother of their son Yevgeny Milkovich.

Svetlana gives one of her infamous glares over the stack of tan food boxes, letting out an obviously loud huff.

“Need help here. Before I drop food on this shitty floor.”

“It’s not shitty, I just mopped it,” Mickey snaps, mildly offended at her disregard for his attempt at cleaning up his home.

It didn’t last though. Svet was right. The floor was usually dirty unless Ian cleaned it. It just didn’t really fit Mickey’s style to clean the damn thing every week like his partner insisted. It wasn’t mania, nah, just Ian actually informing Mickey that a house should be scrubbed at least every other week, or in their case, every week.

Mickey long since decided not to argue. His ginger was persuasive and stubborn as fuck. Plus, Ian did this cute thing when he was proud of Mickey for cleaning up, or taking the load off so Ian could study and take extra shifts to pay for his classes.

Mickey wanted to help in any way that he could. Especially when he wasn’t working or attending his own night school classes.

“Don’t care. Hurry, please, ” Svetlana says, nudging the door closed with her boot.

Mandy is the one to get up, finally noticing her sister in law, but more so noticing the food with a determined excitement. She could out eat anyone of them. It was one of the many impressive talents that his sister held. The two women move into the kitchen to get the food set up, Mickey mumbling that she should care.

By the time Mickey is stubbing out the butt of his smoke, Svetlana is dropping another beer into his lap, to which he shakes his head.

“Nah, not gonna drink another. Ian can’t have this shit so I’m not going to rub it in his face.”

Svetlana shakes her head and reaches over to lift up the bottle, pointing to the label. Mickey is surprised by what comes out of her mouth. And pretty fucking grateful.

“Is not alcohol. Orange boy cannot indulge himself or he go batshit, I know. Is root beer. Still enjoyable for you Americans. Still have the name beer in it, yes?”

Mickey licks his lips and twists the cap off, her fingers leaving the bottle as he does so, him nodding at her statement. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, ya know. He loves this kind too.”

Svetlana just smiles and takes off her boots, curling her feet up into her lap. Ever since he and Ian got back together, Mickey made duel note to make sure things went smoothly for the people he loved in his life. He cared for Svet in his own way, she for him. Aside from their son bringing them closer together it was also Ian. And well, after he jetted off to fucksville USA with the kid, Svetlana had it out for the little red headed shit.

But once Mickey served thirty days in the state, he realized that Svetlana and Ian had patched things up during his incarceration. Ian told him one night when they were laying in bed. It was Svetlana yelling, making threats. Ian groveling and agreeing with her. Then it was them hugging and coming to agreements. 

It eventually ended up with her googling Ian’s illness and taking him to some of his therapy sessions when Mickey had to work days. Things were square. And Svetlana nurtured Ian a lot more than before. Mickey didn’t have to worry if Ian would fall asleep studying and miss a pill. If he would forget to feed himself.

Svetlana was there. She helped. She understood. She cared again. She loved Gallagher. It was hard to not love the giant fucker.

“Mandy says you have no skin on your little balls to watch the show with us?” The woman has a brow up as she states this.

Mandy cutting Svetlana off briefly to add in. “I didn’t say anything about his balls for one, because ew. I just said he’s chicken shit.”

“What’s chicken shit about not wanting to stress myself out over crapshit television? Can’t we just watch, I don’t know, anything else? Or all of you can fuck off instead and go watch it if your underwear is in a bunch over it that much?” Mickey snaps his fingers as he searches for the name on the tip of his tongue, giving his wife a pointed look.

“Why not watch this with your roommates? They’re into weird shit anyways, eh?”

“Vee working the night shift at the bar. Big Bear has kids. Ma needs adult time with grownups that don’t pull hair or spit food down cleavage.”

“Big Bear? You guys fuckin’ picnic or some shit over there? Why you callin’ him that for?” Mickey is somewhat disturbed.

He mostly thought of Kevin as a donkey ass, a giraffe ass, a giant ass. The dude was okay though. Aside from the shitty pimp thing ordeal, Mickey liked him. He respected and accepted Mickey.

“He big like a bear. He sweet like a teddy,” Svetlana bites back as if this were the most obvious description of Kevin Ball known to the Southside.

“Fine, but just don’t bring any porridge over here.” Mickey shares a look with Mandy, reclining back into his spot on the love seat across from the couch where his wife and sister were.

“I think you mean honey, Mick.” Comes a familiar voice from the small hallway, entering their presence into the living room.

Mickey turns to find a goofy, grinning red head, pulling one of Mickey’s own sleeveless, baggy shirts over his head. Formal as he was being lately, Ian moves to the two ladies on the couch, pressing a kiss to each one of their cheeks, before he joins his boyfriend on the couch.

Mickey takes this time to observe his guy. Ian Gallagher. Too tall for his own good.

Those grey sweats semi fitted to his muscular physique. He wore one of Mickey’s longer shirts, his side entirely exposed. Mickey thinks of this exposure as his own personal view. Ian’s creamy freckled skin just staring back at Mickey from the lack of sleeve gap.

Mickey follows the line up from Ian’s side to his bicep, to the patch of red hair that stuck out from under Ian’s armpit, visible, and making Mickey wonder if he was ever religious in another life, due to the strong need to cross himself in a Catholic manner at the damn sight of the armpit hair of his boyfriend.

Ian runs a hand through his newly short hair, his freshly showered hair, the water droplets staining the fresh fabric of Mickey’s shirt when they are shaken loose. When Ian gets himself comfortable, edging closer to Mickey where they sat, Mickey takes in that stubble ridden jawline. Ian obviously hadn’t felt like shaving. Fine by Mickey. The asshole looked even better with the red stubble on that perfect skin.

“Mickey doesn’t wanna watch. Can you convince him? Iggy doesn’t give a fuck,” says Mandy, breaking Mickey out of his staring trance with Gallagher’s features.

“Is good show. Horror Story. Same as news on TV. Bad. This stuff fake though. I see no problems, ” Svetlana states, lifting up, moving into the kitchen now that Ian was joining them, bringing back napkins, plates, a root beer for Ian, and a box of Pizza Hut’s finest meal deals.

“American Horror Story,” corrects, but agrees Mandy, piling her paper plate full of sausage pizza and hot wings, squirting enough ranch onto her pizza to drown out any other flavor it held.

“Hotel. With Lady Gaga. Hot guys showing their asses. Evan fucking Peters hopefully showing his ass.” his little sister continues around a mouthful of food. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Uh, no tits?” Iggy finally makes his presence known, obvious distaste at lack of female nudity in the show.

Everyone just rolls their eyes. Well, except for Svet as she kind of agreed with that.

Mickey just sighs and gives Ian a look, to which Ian shakes his head. “Might as well give in, Mick. If it gets too much you just squeeze my arm. I wore the shirt for it, see?” Ian teases, obviously proud of his little add in pun.

Mickey can’t be mad at that. Fuck it. If it got too much he would just glue himself to Gallagher in bed tonight. Yeah, fuck it. Definitely fuck it.

“Whatever, just turn the shit on then.” Mickey turns to Ian when the TV is on, lifting up a hand to run through that shiny wet red hair.

“Svet got your favorites. Get me a piece of the sausage. I’m gonna go get your pills, man. No way you’re taking them on an empty stomach, then getting the shits and leaving me here with this, and these fuckheads.” He leans in to give a kiss to that stubbled jaw, Ian rolling his eyes but smirking at that same instance, muttering how Mickey gets the shits more than he ever could.

Mickey goes for the kitchen to grab Ian’s evening dosage. They were okay now. It took them a while. Ian had to really get his shit together. Mickey had to figure out who he was sans Gallagher. Ian finding his identity again, sans Mickey too.

But after a few months they both realized that Ian not being in the same bed as Mickey was far more hard than Ian getting used to medication, or Mickey not talking to Ian over lack of emotion, and dumping him like trash on the side of the street, covered in dog shit and on fire…

Prison was a nightmare, Ian getting used to life in the way he had to was a nightmare. But the first night the two spent together after they reconciled, Mickey just watching Ian sleep peacefully. Ian watching Mickey actually fucking hum when he made them breakfast that same morning. It definitely chased the nightmares into the past.

They still had a long way to go, but both were sure that it was manageable now. They would just rest against the other if things got too hard, once in a while. Ian understood this now. It was getting up to being fucking wonderful again. And they could joke, shoot the shit. Mickey was the only one who could say crazy, or psycho, or tease Ian about getting the shits if he didn’t eat.

That right was reserved for Mickey Milkovich, because Ian Gallagher felt safe again, with him. And he was slowly learning to be okay with himself the way he was now. Mickey didn’t pussy foot.

Over time, Ian did learn to let Mickey and Svet remind him to eat, to get his meds sometimes. It was family helping family, a new normal that Ian was learning to be at ease with.

But for the most part, Ian didn’t like to be nagged to eat, only permitting Svet and Mickey to remind him. So much so at first he didn’t like being reminded, that he ended up cooking as a way to take care of himself. It ended up becoming a hobby that relaxed Ian.

He soon started baking. Just making cookies and bringing them to Mickey at work. After Ian got his GED, he enrolled in a community college, currently there to learn.. what was it? Culinary arts?

Mickey didn’t complain. Ian was damn good at it and he had a fire in his eyes over it. Something Mickey saw when Ian wanted to be in the army. Wasn’t as exciting as that to Ian, though he did take on a giddy spell when he started learning how to make souffle.

But he was happy. And so was Mickey. Mickey currently working towards his GED, a job at a loading factory for furniture. Things were good.

Mickey delivers Ian his pills just as his boyfriend scarfs down a hot wing. He takes them with no trouble, passing Mickey their shared plate of food. Ian shifts closer, shoulder to shoulder, they end up forgetting Mickey has his own root beer, sharing Ian’s instead.

They watch the first bit of the premiere of American Horror Story : Hotel. The women just creeping the fuck outta Mickey with how they laughed at every violent turn. Svetlana’s favorite thing was criticizing the blonde tourists.

When a commercial breaks, Mickey thinks this isn’t so bad. Mildly disturbing so far, but not too bad.

Half the food is gone. Ian is not so subtly feeding a piece to Mickey when Svetlana, who was in conversation with Mandy, asks a question that brings everyone’s attention. “You still live with large beating guy?”

Mandy scoffs, a new air, an even more confident one about her. They all knew Mandy lived in Indiana. Indianapolis now. She was only in for a few weeks. Got the time off her job.

“Hell no. That asshole is in Miami. Fractured my wrist, so I fractured his eye socket. Which.. broke my wrist because he’s a fucking giant. Guess I just figured with everything I needed to get my shit together too, right?”

Mandy is quirking another little knowing smirk. “Plus I sold the, excuse me, /his/ car on Craigslist. Sold it to some chump. Put a down payment on me an apartment in Indy with the cash. I like it there. No bullshit. Big city. No brothers.” She teases, looking pointedly at Iggy, then finally to Mickey.

Ian is just beaming from ear to goddamned ear. Asking her what angle of a punch she threw before the next half of the show breaks back in.

Mickey knew it. Knew why he didn’t want to watch this shit. He’s cringing, feeling the pizza come back up in his throat. Ian lets out a vivid “phew”. And then Ian and Mickey are just watching Svetlana and Mandy laugh at the blood, comment on this one and that one’s ass. Mickey lost track of how many naked dark haired dudes there were but that wasn’t even the top of the list…

“Did you fucking see that dude in the bed? Like some bondage shit,” Mandy’s eyes are wide with excitement, now that they can finally talk about it.

“Eh, is not bad. Seen nastier face sores on old clients. Sex in blood though? Ever have period sex? Is not pretty. But then again, neither are big meat sticks with oozing wetness.”

Svetlana lights up one of her cigarettes, this time sharing with Mandy, who is facing Svetlana, arm over the back of the couch as they talk.

“I did this one time with Lip. We put a towel down. On the heavy flow days though, talk about holy shit,” Mandy snorts, nearly choking on the drag of smoke before she passes it back to Svetlana, their mingling lipstick stains on the filter.

“Lip is I Love Lucy’s brother? The one who is short like baby’s father, but with hair like mupet?”

“Hey, hey! Fuck is wrong with you two? You do realize we’re sitting here, right?” Mickey’s eyes are wide, an unlit cigarette between his middle and pointer finger.

Ian looks remotely in agreement, but is less hot headed about it. The period talk was nothing new. He had sisters. Though Fiona never recited any menstrual sex ventures with her younger siblings on standby.

Svetlana just shakes her head, looking back to Mandy.

“You believe this? They put things in poop places but a little blood talk overwhelms.” She’s muttering something in Russian, Ian snorting, Mickey deciding to change the subject.

“I’m all for shoving things up asses, poop places, whatever the fuck you wanna call it–” Ian briefly interjects Mickey, with the mention of “anal beads”, his voice echoing against the rim of his root beer bottle, which has Mickey giving him an infamous “really, Gallagher?” bitchface look, before Mickey continues.

“but a faceless fucker with a drill bit spike dildo? You fucking serious?”

“Eh, I agree. Was pretty vile. You Americans have some fucked shit in your heads, don’t you?”

“I mean it wasn’t your idea or anything to watch it though, right, Svetlana?” Mickey growls with exasperation clear in his tone.

Mandy and Svetlana just get up clean the food up, Iggy turning the channel to some lame ass B grade horror film. Mickey raises up to stretch his arms above his head, ready to end this weird ass night. He grips onto his smokes, grabs his hoodie, a lighter and is out the front door to have a midnight smoke.

Ian follows, choosing to opt out of a hoodie. When he’s within the night air he’s immediately watching Mickey motion to the goosebumps on his skin.

“You’re gonna get sick without a jacket and wet hair, Gallagher.”

“Then you better warm me up, Milkovich. Mhm?”

Ian slinks closer, gripping Mickey’s wrist to turn it so the smoke is angled enough where he can get a hit. Mickey licks his lips and can’t resist, the earlier trance coming back over him. He’s leaning forward whilst Ian is still at a bent angle, leveling their height difference, and he’s tasting his boyfriend’s mouth.

Pizza, smoke, and Ian. Ian’s cinnamon body wash is intoxicating as fuck. Mickey could always remember him using it since they met.

He slides a set of cold fingers up the side of the rib shirt, memorizing those freckles on Ian’s skin. Ian’s hand winds it’s way around Mickey’s lower back, his own fingers seeking a path up the fabric of the simple long sleeved grey shirt Mickey wore. A new favorite of Ian’s. He traces the curve of Mickey’s ass, just below the waistband of his blue jeans and boxers. When they break away from their kiss, Mickey is laughing breathlessly.

“Hey, Gallagher? Guess who is sleeping by the door tonight?”

Ian lets his eyes open, watching Mickey with that amused fascination.

“They really went hog wild on that show, eh Mick? Jesus. I think it would even disturb Frank. And we’re talking about a guy that used to brag about packing a can of chewing tobacco up his ass to get it for free. That’s mild in comparison, I know. ”

“Fucking crazy shit,” Mickey shivers a little, causing Ian to get impossibly closer.

But Gallagher managed, he always manages. Ian’s voice soft and light when he speaks next.

“You scared, Mick? Need me to protect your little Southside shortcake ass in bed tonight?”

And to Ian’s surprise, Mickey looks him directly in the eyes, not bothering to address the tease or nickname with a middle finger or a swear.

“Got a problem with that, Gallagher?”


End file.
